


The Play's the Thing

by clotpoleofthelord (plantainleaf)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Theatre, F/F, spn spring fling 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-24
Updated: 2014-04-24
Packaged: 2018-01-20 14:57:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1514654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plantainleaf/pseuds/clotpoleofthelord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the 2014 Supernatural Springfling, from the prompt Linda/Jody, stagehands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Play's the Thing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ireallyhatecornnuts (CharleyFoxtrot)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharleyFoxtrot/gifts).



_“Warning, lights 3,”_ says a voice in Jody’s ear, and she glances out from the board at the kids on stage. She’s not really sure how she ended up as the light board op for this show; sure, it’s a venue she works pretty frequently, but the colleges usually bring their own people for at least the _main_ roles. Having a random hired stagehand fill in something as crucial as the light board? It’s weird, and Jody’s not a big fan of weird. But she’d heard gossip that there was something about a flu, and maybe asbestos, and she'd decided a paycheck was better than none, and that questions weren't worth the trouble.

 _“Warning heard,”_ she replies, flipping to the next page in the script. The play isn’t one she’s heard of before, but that’s not unusual; a lot of these school productions find unknown stuff so they don’t get slammed with royalty fees. In her opinion, she doesn’t think it’ll get done again. It’s a little over-dramatic, angels and demons locked in warfare with some crap about “chosen vessels” and “seals of Lucifer” and it’s just a little much for suburban North Dakota. 

 _“Standby lights 3,”_ crackles the voice, and Jody’s finger hovers over the board as an actor gestures wildly on stage. _Come to think of it, didn’t some grad student write this one? No wonder._

 _“Lights 3 GO,”_ says the voice and Jody hits the key for the cue, and the light shifts from a misty blue to a sheet of dim red, robotics spinning to form wavy patterns on the scrim. It’s a particularly nice effect, one that Jody’s proud of; the director’s notes had been a little difficult to interpret. 

She leans back in her chair, spinning a pen in her fingers, and watches a boy with battery-powered, lit up wings step into a taped-off circle on the floor. There’s a command of “ _Pyro 2, GO,”_ on the headset and a thin ring of sparkling fire rises up around his feet. 

Jody’s mouth drops open. This is the first time the pyro effects have actually gotten into the rehearsals; apparently, some parent volunteer knows her chemistry and offered to help out. 

The actor playing one of the heroes is declaring something, some grand speech about free will and fate and the inherent goodness of man or something, and Jody watches idly as she runs through her next few cues. There’s not much on her cue sheet between now and intermission and she’s already thinking about what she’s gonna grab from the vending machines as the final confrontation plays out. 

She’s impressed with the kid playing the younger brother; he’s a new actor, out of nowhere, and he’s doing probably the best job of any of them. _Kevin Tran_ , the call sheet says is his name, and she resolves to congratulate him later on on his work. She also hopes being in a play like this one, with a script as bad as the one she’s looking at, a stage manager like Becky and a director like Chuck doesn’t turn him off acting forever. She glances further down the sheet and rolls her eyes. That’swhy she hadn’t heard of the play. Chuck isn’t just directing; he wrote the thing.

The cue for the house lights is called and she brings them up, sliding off her stool to find her way to the soda machines. She’s just mentally debating the merits of Coke vs. root beer when she comes around a corner and nearly smacks straight into someone headed the other direction. “Whoa, sorry,” she says, stepping back and giving an apologetic smile. “Trying to beat the rush to the snack machines.”

The other woman smiles back, arms full of a few cases of soda and water. “You’re the lighting person, right?”

Jody nods.

“No need for vending machines. Come on, there’s going to be free soda in the green room.” The woman shifts the cases to a hip and holds out a hand. It’s small, manicured, and Jody takes it, shaking it. “I’m Linda.”

“Jody. And I think I’ll take you up on that.” She gestures at the stack Linda’s carrying. “Need help?”

Linda shrugs. “I’ve got it.” She adjusts the soda, moving her load back to both arms without any trouble, and starts towards the green room. “You seem like you know what you’re doing.”

“This is what I do,” Jody replies. “Whenever they need me, anyway.”

“It seems like an interesting group of people.”

Jody’s mind flashes through Chuck and Becky and the whole wackadoo cast of characters behind the scenes here at the theatre. “Yeah, uh, interesting. You could say that.” Jody follows her down a weaving hallway. “So how’d you get involved in this thing?”

“My son’s in the play,” Linda explains. “He plays Stan, the younger brother.”

“Holy shit,” says Jody. “You’re the volunteer with the pyro effects.”

Linda grins, and it lights up her whole face. “That’s me.”

“Those were _really_ cool. Much better than we usually get for school theatre.”

“Kevin was in Chemistry club in middle school. You can’t sit through that many meetings without picking something up.”

Jody turns to stare. “Picking something up? Linda, those are better than the _professional_ stuff we get when we bring in the big bands.” She narrows her eyes as she holds open the door to the greenroom. “You’re a chemist or something, right?”

Linda lets out a laugh as she passes. “No, I work for the city. Code enforcement. Much less exciting.” She follows Jody, nodding her thanks for the door. “I’m just good at improvising.” She catches Jody’s eye from inches away as she passes and there’s a spark there that’s more than just pyro effects. Jody can’t help the tiniest hitch in her breath.

***

Somehow, they're friends now. Maybe it's being the only two adult women involved in the production besides the stage manager, Becky, who both are avoiding at all costs. But however it happens, more often than not Linda wanders into the light booth after her effects are set. Jody's just glad they've finally got the wireless headsets, because Linda has a habit of roaming the booth during rehearsals, poking through old stacks of gels, props and lighting plans and corded headsets would have been a complete disaster. Jody joins in during the older brother's monologue just before the end of the first act; it goes on for nearly fifteen minutes and there's not a cue for her for the whole time. It’s neat, seeing this life through the eyes of an outsider; she’d forgotten how much totally weird stuff ends up in a theatre.

And it's nice, having a friend, Jody decides. 

It's not that she doesn't _have_ friends, in her life outside the theatre. She's got neighbors she has over for dinner and old college buddies she keeps in sporadic touch with. But there's something about Linda that makes it– _different_.

Jody's not stupid, and she's not blind. She knows Linda is an attractive woman, and she knows herself well enough to know she's got a thing for tiny, competent women. But there's never really the right time to bring it up and say, hey, after this fourteen hour shift in this six by twelve room, you want to get a drink? No, after a day of tech Jody is lucky if she makes it to her bed instead of crashing on the couch beside the door to her apartment.

***

Opening night always comes way quicker than Jody thinks it's going to, and suddenly she's in the booth as usual and the theatre is filled with more than just Becky and Chuck. For the first time in a week there's no Linda in her booth, because there's no empty theatre to sneak through to get from the wings to her door.

The show runs smoothly, her lights right on target, the spots cooperating for once (Meg and Ruby aren't exactly what she'd call 'team players' but when they decide to work together they make magic happen with their spotlights), and the actors all hitting their marks and remembering their lines.

The play is a weird modern piece, and the more times Jody watches it, the less sense it makes. There’s angels and demons, played by a whole host of undergrads, and smoke and mirrors and loud percussive crashes. Jody's especially unsure of the second half, especially the last act. The best part of that act is definitely Linda's explosion at the end, when the pit opens up and the younger brother falls into a blaze of hellfire. It’s pretty awesome. 

But the audience seems pleased enough with the whole thing, and she figures that's what matters in the end. Kevin comes out the audience door and Jody watches on her monitors as he's surrounded by a crowd of people congratulating him. She spots Linda there, hanging back and grinning at her son. Kevin makes his way to her and hugs her, then pulls back to be carried along in a tide of people, audience and actors, towards the exit.

Linda watches him go, smile on her face, then turns back towards the theatre. Her eyes flick up and look directly at the camera and Jody can’t help the grin that stretches across her face.

The hard part’s over, now that performances have started and the first one went off without a hitch. Now it’s just listening and reacting through the rest of the shows and making sure nothing goes wrong. So she can take some time, she decides, as Linda slips through the door.

“Hey,” says Jody, smiling. “Kevin did great tonight. And your effects were amazing.”

“Thanks,” says Linda. “My son can do anything he puts his mind to. If he works hard enough, that is.” Her smile is fond for a moment, then she focuses back on Jody. “The lights were lovely.”

“You think so?”

Linda nods. She’s closer, now, and Jody’s not sure how that happened, but she’s not complaining. “So, Kevin says he’s spending the night with a friend,” says Linda, leaning back against the counter. “Have you had dinner?”

Jody shakes her head. “I was thinking of grabbing a drink, too. Somewhere that cards, so none of the actors will be there.”

Linda lets out a laugh. “That sounds perfect.”

The theatre isn’t far from the town’s small main street, and the night is nice enough that they can walk without freezing. They talk as they go, getting a chance for a real, uninterrupted conversation for the first time since they met.

They have more in common than Jody thought, she discovers. They’re both widows, both transplants from other midwestern cities, and both a little isolated from the community.

And Linda is _funny._ She’s funny, and smart, and extremely good at unexpected things, like pyrotechnics, or finding her way through a dark city, or knowing exactly when to grab Jody’s arm when a brick in the sidewalk suddenly crumbles under her foot. And her hand doesn’t move after that, not more than just sliding down Jody’s arm to curl around her fingers. She squeezes, gently, and Jody squeezes back.

They’re almost to the bar when Jody stops, turns. Linda stops too, looking up at her, curious. 

Jody clears her throat and glances towards downtown, then back to Linda. “So, um, tell me if this is too forward, or whatever, but my apartment’s just a block away and I thought maybe–”

Linda’s smile is slow, this time, spreading across her face, and she stretches up and cuts Jody off with a slow, intimate kiss.

It takes Jody a second to respond. It’s been a long time since she kissed somebody, longer still since she felt these warm, bubbling feelings in her stomach at the touch of someone’s hand on her waist and lips on her mouth. 

Their hands are still woven together, tucked against Linda’s side, and Jody slides her other hand around to curl at the small of Linda’s back. She tugs her closer as her mouth drifts open, lazy and easy and warm.

It’s Linda who pulls back first, but she keeps her hands on Jody’s hips and grins at her. “You were saying something about your apartment?”

It’s all Jody can do not to run.

In the morning there’ll be more shows, more actors full of stress and more Becky’s voice on the headset. Chuck will probably be hungover, Meg and Ruby will be fighting, and she’s pretty sure the kid playing Lucifer might actually be the devil.

But right now, she’s got two beers in her hand and a beautiful woman on her couch, and her life is looking pretty damn good.

 

 


End file.
